


Daughter (Tomb Raider One-Shot 5)

by Meldelen



Category: Tomb Raider & Related Fandoms, Tomb Raider (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, tomb raider oneshot 5, traod sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meldelen/pseuds/Meldelen
Summary: Lara receives a major uncomfortable visit in Croft Manor by Christmas time that will uncover again an old sorrow from the past.LaraxKurtis.Christmas oneshot. Many thanks to ClaireSail for her hasteness in beta-reading this one :)





	Daughter (Tomb Raider One-Shot 5)

 

After getting out of the luxurious limousine and refusing the driver’s help, the old man stood up and watched for a few moments the imposing manor standing a few meters away - away from the bars that blocked his way. He studied, thoughtfully, the rustic but elegant country house, asking himself what kind of deranged virago could waste her time among tombs and bones when she had all that comfort granted for life.

He didn’t say it out loud, though. No, the venerable _Herr_ Von Croy (Senior), magnate director of the Von Croy Industries located in New York, had not gone so far in his life, career and business, by formulating aloud the least of his thoughts.

Not even two seconds had passed when he noticed Miss Croft’s old butler approaching, slow but surely – she, however, didn’t deserve to be called _Miss_ , or at least that's what he thought -. Silently, _Herr_ Von Croy Sr. waited for the ailing old man to arrive, who opened the gate with the same parsimony with which he’d approached.

“Welcome, Mr. Von Croy.” He greeted politely. “Miss Croft is delighted to welcome you. She’s waiting for you in the living room. Come with me.”

Mr. Von Croy had very serious doubts about Lara Croft being _delighted_ to see him again, but not that he cared too much. It was time to settle things with that bitch.

He didn’t bother to smile or respond to the butler. After all, service staff was only service staff. He followed him in silence, not deigning to look at his face.

* * *

 “Would you care to enjoy some tea?” Winston offered politely, not disturbed in the least by the visitor's sour mood. At his silence, he insisted: “How do you like tea?”

The old man in the suit just shooed him away with a contemptuous gesture and went into the living room. It was almost Christmas and the wide room was decorated with the typical tree and some garlands. Von Croy Sr. grimaced - he couldn’t imagine Lara Croft particularly interested in that nonsense, surely it was the stupid butler's job.

The woman was waiting for him sitting in a comfortable armchair by the fire. When she saw him enter, she rose slow and heavily to greet him... and the old man froze.

Lara Croft's belly was considerably swollen, and there was no doubt why.

 _“Mein Gott!”_ Von Croy father uttered - for the first time in his life, he said the first thought that came to mind.

“Welcome, _Herr_ Von Croy.” She greeted politely, but her tone was much colder and sharper than the refined courtesy of her butler. Seeing that the newcomer was still staring at her, she raised an eyebrow. “What's wrong? Have you never seen a pregnant woman? If I recall correctly, you had a son. Or was he brought by a stork from Paris?”

Spurred by her sarcasm, the old man advanced to her and, without waiting to be invited, sat in the armchair in front of her. Lara sat down again with studied slowness.

“When?” Von Croy father asked, pointing again to the swollen belly.

Lara smiled. “Do you care?”

The old man gave a dry laugh. “Fine, then. Since we’ve abandoned stupid formalities and false courtesies, I suggest we get to the point.” He reached into his elegant coat and took out an envelope, which he threw on the glass table between them. “I want my money.”

The woman stared absently at the envelope. Then she looked at him without understanding. “What are you talking about?”

“The inheritance of my son Werner, of course. The one you have stolen.”

For a few moments, the woman's brown eyes locked on him. The reflection of the flames made them shine in a strange, almost malignant way. But Von Croy Sr. had never feared that woman, much less now.

“I have _not_ stolen anything.” She murmured. “I have _no_ need to steal absolutely anything from anyone.”

The old man laughed again. “Well, you stole the Iris.” He twisted his mouth. “Von Croy Industries, New York, year 1997. You and that miserable _negro_ I just fired by then. Or did you forget?” He looked her up and down. “You were wearing a suggestive black leather suit. I think right now it wouldn’t fit you, unfortunately.”

The woman's lips curled into a soft smile. “Oh, but the Iris wasn’t stolen from you. It was stolen from your son Werner.” She leaned back in the armchair, rubbing absently one side of her belly. “And he never claimed it back.”

“As if you were going to give it back.”

The woman laughed again.

At that moment the butler entered carrying a tray with a teapot and several cups. He served the tea quietly, but Von Croy Sr. had no intention of taking even a sip. As far as he knew, that murderous bitch might have commanded to put cyanide in his cup.

“Please, Mr. Von Croy.” Winston then said kindly. “I beg you not to exhaust Miss Croft. Be brief.”

So, she was exhausted. But there was no need for that stupid servant to tell him. He could see with his very eyes. On the verge of bursting, pale and with dark circles under her eyes. “I'll talk when this _servant_ leaves.” He commented petulantly.

Lara pierced him with her eyes. “From now on, _Herr_ Von Croy, you’ll address Winston with due respect or will you be the one to leave.” She said, slowly taking the cup to her lips.

Winston pretended not to hear anything, quietly picked up his tray and went out at a slow pace. Von Croy Sr. didn't start talking until he heard the door close. “You’ve stolen a great patrimony from me, _Miss_ _Croft_ ,” He said, pronouncing her name with sarcasm, “and the Iris is just part of it. I am here to claim that heritage, including the remains of my son, which you took so shamelessly from Paris.”

Lara straightened up in the armchair, although the old man didn’t miss the gesture of pain she made. “Werner’s buried here, in the family cemetery, next to the chapel.” She said, rubbing her kidneys. “If I brought him to this place, it's because no one claimed him for months. He remained unburied in a morgue in Paris, and neither you, who are his father, nor anyone in his family, claimed him. I wasn’t going to let them throw him into a common grave.” Then she pointed at him. “What right have you now to claim? What else do you say I’ve stolen? I never touched anything belonging to Werner... except the Iris.” And smiled again with that grimace - so hers.

The old man crossed his arms. “Open the envelope.”

The woman looked at him for a moment, and then, she bowed. Von Croy Sr. was not an expert on pregnancies - he hadn’t even paid much attention when his already deceased wife had carried Werner in her womb - but he figured she had very little time left before giving birth. She was probably already in the eighth or ninth month.

He remained silent while Lara opened the envelope, unfolding the letter and quickly reading the lines written on it. Moments later, she froze. “What is this?” She mumbled, and seemed genuinely confused, which dislodged the old man. He hadn’t expected her to be unaware. Still, he enjoyed her confusion.

“A list of all the assets and properties of Werner Von Croy Jr. _My son_.” He pointed out petulantly “All his bank accounts and his contents, including that of Switzerland, all his properties, including the Parisian apartment that you destroyed...”

“I did _not_ destroy that apartment.” Lara cut off, glaring at him. “It was the Monstrum - and in case you don’t remember, I'm _not_ the Monstrum.”

“... besides a wide collection of invaluable antiques and all those books he adored, though I don’t think they are worth much.” The old man concluded, ignoring her. “Oh, and the Iris, of course. You see? It’s included in the list of artefacts.”

“I see.” Lara said, and then raised an eyebrow and laughed softly. “And I see he also included the Amulet of Horus.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Something that will never be recovered.” Lara threw the letter on the table. “Of course, Werner had a sense of humour. The Amulet is not in my power... nor in anyone's. It’s definitely lost.”

“In any case, I don’t care. I want all this back, Miss. I am his closest living relative, and I demand my son's estate.”

Lara rubbed her kidneys again. “I'm afraid you’ve been misled. Of all this here,” and made a vague gesture to the letter, “only the Iris, and Werner’s remains themselves, is what’s right now in my power. The rest doesn’t belong to me or ever belonged to me... not even the Amulet of Horus.”

“Are you sure?”

A thick silence was made in the room. The woman frowned, and Von Croy Sr. realized that she was starting to get angry.

Much better.

“There's something I still haven’t told you. An addition, a separate paper, dated June 2003... specifically one week before dying.” He reached into his jacket, took out a small piece of cardboard, and threw it on the table. “This was inside the envelope, which appeared hidden in one of the closets of his Paris apartment. He must have written it shortly before he was killed.”

Lara didn’t need to lean back to read clearly what was written there.

_I leave all my assets and properties to Lara Croft, the only daughter I’ve ever had._

For a moment, only the crackling of the wood was heard in the flames of the hearth. The woman was staring at the written line. Suddenly, a gesture of pain crossed her face and she bent over one of the arms of the chair.

Von Croy Sr. wrinkled his nose. _“Mein Gott_ , you won’t go into labor now, will you?” He looked around, uncomfortable. “It would be certainly disgusting.”

“ _You_ are disgusting.” Lara mumbled under her breath, and reaching out, took a small bronze bell on the table and made it sound. Almost at once the door opened and the solicitous butler appeared, this time coming quickly, looking worriedly at his mistress. “Are you okay, Miss? Do you want me to bring you something?”

“No.” She gasped. “Just escort our guest to the door.” The way she said it revealed her low appreciation for _that_ guest.

“Miss Croft.” The aforementioned frowned. “You can throw me now under the pretext of being... _indisposed_ , but I will return. I have the right to my son's estate.”

“With what excuse?” Lara smiled, while Winston accommodated a pillow behind her back. “From what is read there, Werner’s last will was to bequeath me all his patrimony.”

“How dare...”

“ _Herr_ Von Croy.” The butler spoke suddenly, turning to him. “Miss Croft is, as you said, indisposed. Have the kindness to accompany me to the exit. I am sure that a second meeting can be arranged soon.”

“I don’t talk to the service staff.” Von Croy Sr. pointed out, looking at Lara and getting up slowly. “Good luck with the delivery, Miss Croft. Rest assured that I will return.”

He let Winston to guide him to the door and got into his limousine, but before closing the door, he heard the butler murmur to him, without losing the courtesy for a moment: “If you don’t talk to the service staff, _Herr_ Von Croy, how do they know what you need?” And he closed the door in his face.

Then, parsimoniously, Winston returned to the manor, entered the room again and stood watching Lara for a moment. The woman held the small paper in her hands as she reread it silently, moving her lips. A new gesture of pain crossed her face while she rubbed her belly again.

Without saying a word, Winston turned, walked slowly to the phone and picked it up. After dialling a number, he waited patiently, and then said: “Mr. Trent? I'm afraid you have to return immediately, and bring Mrs. Cornel with you.” He smiled slightly. “It’s about time.”

* * *

  _I leave all my assets and properties to Lara Croft, the only daughter I’ve ever had._

Kurtis held the paper between his fingers for a moment, as he read silently. Then he looked again at the list of assets, properties and bank accounts that had belonged to Von Croy Jr. He released a long whistle. “So, this is what upset you that much.” He smiled. “No wonder, it's a good pinch.”

“Don’t be silly.” Lara murmured. She was lying on her side on the huge, wide bed, hugging her belly. “I don’t need any of that, I don’t even want it. I don’t know why he left it to me.”

“You sure?” Kurtis dropped the paper on the divan, went to her and sat next to her. “Then, why are you so upset?”

Lara closed her eyes and didn’t answer. She heard him get up, go around the bed and lie down next to her, hugging her from behind. A moment later she felt his hand - large and warm - gently caress her hair and then her belly. She winced.

“Did I hurt you?” He said, withdrawing his hand.

“No, no. It's just...” She seemed focused for a moment. Then she took his hand and placed it on the side of her belly. “Here. Yes. Can you feel it?”

Kurtis waited for a moment, then smiled. “She’s also restless.” He could feel the baby move under his fingers. “Why does it bother you that much? Don’t give the old man what he wants. Fuck him. Fuck him right in the assho...”

“Of course, I won’t give him anything.” Lara interrupted. She winced again. A kick? “I won’t keep it either. I never wanted anything from Werner.”

“Liar.” Kurtis' hand was still caressing her belly gently. Only he could touch her that way - and indeed, the baby seemed to calm down at his touch. Little by little, she stopped moving. “That man, or his memory, has always tormented you.”

“We were enemies. We tried to kill each other. Many times.”

“You _tried?_ You never fail a target, Lara. You're the best shooter I've ever met. And he had thousands of hired thugs, according to what you told me. You must have tried rather _little_.”

Lara smiled. “Alright.” She ended up admitting. “Maybe I tried rather _little_.” Then she sighed and covered her face with her hands. “Of all of the horrors of today’s world, my biggest obsession is Egypt. That and Werner’s death. I could never forgive him for what he did, but no one deserves to die like that. Not for some damn Paintings.”

“We avenged him.” Kurtis took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “Him, and others. Karel’s dead. Eckhardt’s dead - but you don’t have peace.”

Lara shook her head slowly. “I will never have it.” She looked at the divan. “Werner always manages to disturb me. Even after death.”

“You should appreciate him very much.”

She didn’t answer. A new gesture of pain crossed her face. Kurtis, who still had his other hand on her belly, winced. “Wow.” He murmured. That hadn’t been the baby. “What day is today?” He asked suddenly.

“It’s early yet.” Lara replied.

Kurtis got up. “Gonna call my mother.”

“For what? There are still weeks...” and suddenly her face changed and she let out a scream, bending over herself.

Sprinting down the hall, Kurtis crossed paths with Winston. Without stopping, the man patted the butler's shoulder. “Good eye, Winston.” He told him.

“Thank you, Mr. Trent.”

* * *

No one expected Anna that soon, but she was born the next day, on Christmas Eve, which would be a joke for the rest of her days. Everyone around Lara agreed that it was Werner's last will which rushed the delivery, although she always refused to admit it.

“Damn old man.” Jean Yves jeered when getting the news over the phone. “Even after death he has to make a mess with everything.”

Then he went to Cairo bazaar and, after several laps, managed to contact a gang of crooks who were illegally looting some lost pharaonic tombs and did something against his principles: he bought them a beautiful _ushebti_ from Ramses II era, carved in lapis lazuli, and sent it to England as a gift for the new-born, along with his more formal apologies for not being able to visit them in person, since he was engaged in a fight with Zahi Hawass regarding excavation rights of a certain site in Alexandria.

“As usual.” Lara said, smiling, and placed the _ushebti_ on Anna's crib. “There have only been two men and a woman who really could exhaust Jean's patience, and one of them was Werner. The other is Hawass, and unfortunately for Jean, I don’t think he will be murdered.”

“And the woman?” Kurtis raised his eyebrows, though he already knew it.

“Yeah right. It’s me.”

The baby was awake, and she stared, with those big blue eyes, the little _ushebti_ suspended over the crib. Kurtis, who had been keeping vigil over the little girl since she was born with the anxiety of a novice father, frowned. “What the hell is that?”

“ _Ushebti_ means "the one who answers" in ancient Egyptian.” Lara explained. “They are statuettes placed in tombs hoping they would serve the soul of the deceased in the Hereafter.” Kurtis arched an eyebrow, so Lara continued. “What Jean means is that he wishes Anna luck and health. Nowadays they are trafficked as amulets.”

“Hope the other gifts are normal.” Kurtis growled.

They weren’t. Father Dunstan showed up with a beautiful coral rosary carved by the people of Haiti’s mission and Zip sent from New York a small bib with the legend I CAME FROM THE WORLD’S WORST MOM delicately embroidered - "I’m so gonna kill him”, Lara promised -, Charles Kane showed up with several bottles of excellent Cuban rum – “Dear Lord, he wouldn’t want the girl to drink that”, Winston murmured as he ran to hide them in the cellar - and Selma sent a mini-reproduction of the beautiful landscape of Cappadocia, with the inscription: WHERE IT ALL BEGAN, in addition to her apologies for not being able to be there yet, but promised to be soon, when the excavation in which she was busy with were more consolidated.

“Where it all began?” Lara frowned. “What does she mean?”

Kurtis smiled mischievously. “Well...I think she refers to her.” And looked sideways at the baby's crib.

Lara took a few seconds to get it. Kurtis's mischievous grin grew wider. Suddenly, the British explorer blushed. “Gross.” She murmured, and put the figurine among the books on the shelf.

* * *

  _...to Lara Croft, the only daughter I've ever had._

If at least those last words stopped tormenting her.

_Why, Werner?_

She already felt quite guilty, for the last few seconds she’d spent with him were a brutal fight.

_Help me, Lara._

If she could tear off that look of despair, that anguished voice of her memory.

_Help me, Lara._

She was almost on the verge of not going to Paris - and then she wouldn’t have seen him die, she wouldn’t have undertaken her particular crusade against the Monstrum, she wouldn’t have met Kurtis... and that baby she held in her arms, that girl with white skin and blue eyes would not be feeding on her breast at that very moment.

She felt as weird as guilty. She, someone's mother? She’d never felt like anyone's daughter. Not even her own mother, Lady Angeline, who had never treated her like a mother treats her daughter.

How could she be someone's mother, if she’d never had a mother who could be called as such. If she’d never felt like anyone's daughter.

Except, maybe...

_Lara Croft, the only daughter I've ever had._

She didn’t realize she was sobbing quietly until she felt the tears distort her sight, dissolving the vision of the baby who suckled from her breast in a curtain of water. The little girl stirred, restless, feeling her discomfort, but she didn’t stop rocking her.

A tear fell on Anna's cheek the moment the door to the room opened. Lara turned on her back, toward the window. “Go away!” She exclaimed, trying to sound normal.

“Don’t even think about it, honey.” She heard Marie Cornel’s behind her. “You won’t cast me out of here.”

Lara turned to her and, after studying her for a moment, pointed the door with a nod. No, she would never cast Marie out, much less after everything that woman had done for her, including helping to bring Anna into the world.

The Navajo woman discreetly closed the door and approached the divan where Lara and her daughter were reclining.

“Don’t tell Kurtis I was...” Lara made an awkward gesture and wiped away her tears. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Marie sighed. “You're too proud for your own good, Lara.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. But my price is some information. What's wrong?”

Lara remained silent for a few moments, looking down at the baby next to her breast. “I don’t think I can do this.” She confessed at last.

“Of course you can. You’ve done incredible things, Lara. There are no women like you - only you. Raising a child is something that any woman can do.”

“This I cannot. Me, a mother?” She snorted. “I don’t even know... how...”

“Well, for now you handle the basics quite well.” Marie smiled and stroked the baby's head. “Why did you have her, then?”

Lara sighed. “Kurtis. He…” She shook her head. “I... thought I was going to lose him. And then he was so happy... you've seen how much...”

Marie smiled. “Yes. Never seen my son so happy. But right now, you worry me. Don’t you love her? I find hard to believe you’ve done something like that against your desire. You’re not that kind of woman, Lara.”

The baby had finished sucking and had fallen asleep, the little face stuck to her chest. Lara watched her for a moment and finally said in a slightly irritated voice: “Of course I love her. She wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t wanted her.”

“Then why do you torment yourself? You'll do fine.” Marie stroked Lara’s hair, but when she noticed she was stiff, she pulled her hand away. “There’s not a single kind of mother. You don’t have to be like others. Be yourself.”

“I'm not very motherly.”

“You don’t have to be. Anna will know you love her and she will accept you as you are. Children have a talent for reading love in adults, even when it’s not that evident.” And then she laughed. “It’s enough she will have one parent spoiling her. She will also need discipline and sanity.”

“Don’t…”

“I won’t tell Kurtis. I promised. But you're going to have to dry those tears or he'll notice. This morning he noticed you were upset. That's why he sent me.” Lara looked at her, shocked. Marie shrugged. "My son is a lot smarter than he looks at first glance. He already knew you were not going to tell him.”

Lara looked down again at the baby, who stirred slightly in her sleep. She rocked her gently.

“It's not just that, is it?” Marie suddenly said.

“What are you talking about?”

“You're crying for that man. The archaeologist who was your mentor.”

Lara stared at her. Then she said: “I don’t want to talk about Werner.”

“Aha!” Marie clicked her fingers. “So that's it.”

The explorer was going to reply when there were soft knocks on the door. Kurtis stuck his head out.

“Excuse the interruption, but,” he pointed with his thumb back, “the old man of the inheritance has returned.”

Lara frowned. “Didn’t Winston welcome him?”

“He tried, but he's still climbing down the stairs.” Then Kurtis made a face. “Can I kick him out?” From the tone of his voice it was easy to guess that he was wishing it and not going to be as polite as Winston had been.

“No.” Lara said suddenly. “I’ll take care of him.” She got up, left the baby in Marie's arms and closed her shirt. Then she left at a brisk pace.

“You should rest.” Kurtis murmured, suddenly noticing her red eyes.

“I'm fine.” She replied shortly.

* * *

In the end, Von Croy Sr. didn’t get what he wanted. Moreover, having gone directly to Lara instead of leaving the matter in the hands of his lawyers worsened his situation. In any case, there had never been much to do: Werner's last will had been to bequeath all his patrimony, not to his direct living relatives, but to Lara. There was no way to disavow his last note: it was as authentic as the letter he’d sent her, in a desperate attempt to catch her attention, the very day she finally decided to travel to Paris.

Lara's reaction was to sell everything and donate the money to several art and history foundations, except the objects of ancient art and historical value, which she distributed among several museums. She only kept the Iris for herself. Of course, it had been in her hands for a long time, and now she understood, finally, why Werner had never claimed it back.

_The only daughter I've ever had._

“I will never understand what was going through his mind.” She confessed to Kurtis one night, reclined on his chest next to the fireplace, with the huge Christmas tree behind them and Winston rocking the baby in his arms next to them, humming an old lullaby that Lara herself found very familiar. “I thought he hated me with all his might. He sent his men to kill me several times, but he came to my aid when I had the accident in Egypt, and he forwarded his hand to me as I hung over the abyss.”

_Give me your hand, child!_

“I thought he’d left me to die buried alive in that place, but turns out that he looked for me desperately for months, and that he was forced to give me up for dead. And when he found out I was alive, he tried to contact me again and again.”

_I could not leave you!_

“That man loved you, Lara.” Kurtis played with her long braid, slowly undoing it. “I wish my father had shown me such devotion.”

“Well, Werner had a very strange way of showing it.”

Kurtis laughed quietly. “He was also a proud hard-head like you. Musta been hard for him to ask for your help when he was caught by the Monstrum.”

“As much as it took me to come to his aid.” Lara ran her hand over her face. “I will never get rid of this. He will always come to me in dreams. I wish... I wish the last thing I told him hadn't been… _that_. I wish I could have said goodbye.” She looked at the butler, who was still cooing the baby in his arms. “In fact, if Winston hadn’t convinced me, I wouldn’t even have gone to Paris.”

The old man looked up and smiled slightly. “I’d suggest you stop torturing yourself for something you cannot change anymore, Miss. Professor Von Croy is gone, and you did everything you could for him, just as he did everything he could for you.”

“But in the end, neither of us could help each other.” Lara sighed, and opened her hand. “I just have to let him go.”

In the palm of her hand was the crumpled piece of paper with the words that had so disturbed her. She watched it for a moment, then, without further ado, threw it into the fire.

“Goodbye, Werner.” She murmured.

The piece of paper crackled for a few moments between the flames and then folded back on itself, blackening.

Lara got up, took Anna from Winston's arms and went back to Kurtis. Now she had her own daughter. A chance to do things well.

“Merry Christmas, Kurtis.” She whispered, resting her head on the American's chest, who surrounded them both with his wide arms.

He smiled. “Merry Christmas, Lara.” Then kissed his daughter’s head and whispered: “Merry Christmas, Anna.” Finally, he turned to the butler and said. “Merry Christmas, Winston.”

But the old and faithful butler had already fallen asleep, his head bent over his chest, huddled in the armchair, snoring softly.


End file.
